When I was in the first bloom of pregnancy, so naive, so eager, so full of good intention, nobody took the time to sit down and explain to me how much having children changes your life. I mean really changes your life! Of course there is the usual expectations of stretch marks, sleepless nights, a bit of extra washing and the fear of killing your child in the first six months. But it’s the other ‘unspoken of’ stuff that I feel cheated about! The stuff that all other parents knew, but kept silent about. Maybe it was all a big conspiracy, or maybe you were all just too damn tired to care!
But I will not hold my silence any longer!
Someone needs to speak out. It is only fair that we warn those who follow blindly behind us in to this God forsaken territory. God knows we go through enough after a 9 month body invasion, followed by a truly gruesome floor show for strangers in white coats that, let’s face it, come the end could have been the bloody cleaner! To come through all this, to survive the first few months of parenthood, and then, as you slowly emerge from the newborn haze, to realize that somewhere along the way you have lost the right to your stuff!!??!!
It’s like climbing out of a post apocalyptic bunker to find all your stuff has been annihilated. I shit you not. It is that devastating!
So here you go peeps. Here is my list of shizz that I unashamedly and materialistically mourn for. If you are of a ‘judgey’ disposition, that’s fine. I will see you back here in a few months when your baby has been born, or when they finally break that one thing you specifically told them not to bloody touch. If, however, you are open to the reality that your babies may not be perfect, read on…
The Miss List:
My lovely grown up jewelry that I can no longer wear without risk of asphyxiation/slobber damage/ripped piercings
The ‘nice’ biscuits that I wish to keep from small hands without having to secrete them in bloody Narnia
My cherished childhood books that in reality I want to keep in one piece for another 30 years so have to store them away from my little shits, whilst in my fantasies I enjoy sharing them with my children/grandchildren, curled up on the couch like some kind of Beeches movie montage…
I know for a fact that my husband would kill for his precious plasma screen to be paw print free for just one day
I want my fridge to be full of craft beers and reassuringly expensive cheeses again…..not 20 litres of milk and laughing bloody dairy cow dunky dips (or whatever they’re called!)
I want to be able to leave the bathroom door open once in a while secure in the knowledge that some small personage won’t go in there to eat Vaseline/my face cream/toilet roll/the loo brush
I want my secure sleep back, to be safe in the knowledge that I won’t wake up to find someone at the bottom of my bed staring at me a little too intensely
I wanna eat dry roasted peanuts and not worry about them falling on the floor!!!
Children creep into every aspect of your life. And this is what you are not told. I didn’t expect not to be able to take a shit in peace for the next 5 years. I didn’t expect them to be able to stretch their arms like bloody X-Men to reach my most delicate ornaments. I didn’t expect this full on invasion in to every corner of my shizz!!!
I love my girls, I really do. And I will give them my all to the day I die. But some day soon, I shall stand up, plant my flag and reclaim my shizz for myself!